*short post bc I have the day off and want to write.
There's a song called "My Blood." Its about a boy and his brothers. In the first two lines he says, "If you're facing down a dark hall, I'll grab my light and go with you." The song speaks volumes. It could mean anything, from a literal hallway or dark mind. Its a song about relationships and having someone's back no matter the circumstance. "Stay with me no, you don't need to run. Stay with me my blood." The line "you don't need to run." is said more often than other line in the song. Its meant to convey that sense of support. Support that no matter what your facing, if they're calling for your head, that they'll grab their bat and go with you.
Support. Its something that, while you always kinda know you have it. Its often hard for those who support you, to even say it often enough. Especially when you're in the same place as me. I know these things. Deep down. I feel it, I know they love me. Thats why I tried for so long to thrive off it. My nieces and nephews smiling at me, calling me Juju. My siblings calling me because they want to chat and playing games with my brother. But its harder than you think. You're dealing with so much that its hard to get lifted high enough to see any light. You have all the support in the world but fear that the weight that you're carrying will overwhelm them too and that's your biggest fear. They're afraid of lose you, but you're afraid that you'll lose them because of you.
It feels like they offer their support, but do they really know what kinda burden taking on?
I've recently had a LOT of support. Its wonderful and truly heartwarming. I love them. All of them. Its makes me feel warmer when sometimes I am too cold to feel anything. But I can't help but worry. I know its not pity, but I worry it might be obligation or responsibility. I worry that they may not realize how deep it really goes. I worry that, as much as they love me, maybe it'll more than they can handle, maybe I'll be more than they can handle.
I suppose thats what family is for though. Just like the song. My Blood. They'll be with you no matter what. You're their blood. No matter how strong your fear is that they'll be hurt in the process they'll go with you. Its nice to know. Knowing, that no matter how terrible you think the situation is, you got an army to go to war with you.
"If you find yourself in a lion's den, I'll jump right in and pull my pin and go with you."
Thursday, February 7, 2019
Sunday, February 3, 2019
"Fridays will always be better than Sundays 'Cause Sundays are my suicide days"-Twenty One Pilots
Aint it true though. The title. I'm not sure why it is. I feel like its relevant for everyone tho. Everyone that is who, is somewhat like me. Mentally I suppose. They really are the worst days. The very worst.
People don't entirely understand though. To be honest, neither do I. Why? Why is it Sunday's. "The Lord's day." The rest day, the peaceful day, the brunch day. They're always a bad day for me. Always. I'm not sure why. For a while I thought it was because I was alone. I live alone, and don't do much on the weekends, so, it would make sense that my loneliness would be completely encompassing on Sundays. But, it even happens when I'm with people I love. When I'm not even home, when I'm on vacation. I can't escape. Its like a timer. I've come to know, that on Sunday's, I'll be at the lowest. But, back to the initial sentence of this paragraph. People. Don't. Get. It. I've told a friend of mine, who also struggles with depression and anxiety, that i can't do things on Sundays. I cant. I won't drive 30 mins to see you, because, I. Can. Not. Do. It. Recently, she's said we've become distant and that she always wants to hang out. I'm not sure how explain to her any other way. SUNDAYS ARE MY SUICIDE DAYS! I need to not be, idk forced, to do something that my body and my brain and my heart, are not in it. I don't think I would even hang out with my sister if my nieces and nephews weren't my literal life force, but even then. I need to be home early so I can distract myself by whatever self medicating means I need.
Today is no different. Its bad. Its really bad today. Its gorgeous outside, and I've closed all my blinds. The darkness makes me feel less like a hermit and a bum who won't clean her apartment. But i need the light right? So I can feel better. Because i do like natural light. But my apartment is dirty, because i can't bring myself to clean it. Like a normal person. Like I used to. So i'm paranoid that people will walk by, and see my dirty place. Its completely random things like that. Things that people don't understand. People assume you' re lazy. Or you just don't want to see them, or do things, or you like being at home. But its not. Its being stuck. You're stuck in your head and what those are telling you and people who have never experienced it, don't get it. You can talk till you're blue in the face and they will still try to fix you. They'll tell you that you need fresh air, that a doctor won't do anything, that you need to sleep that you need to eat, that you need work out. They'll give you a list of mindful practices without realizing that my "mind" isn't in the place to be mindful, because to be very honest, its not even my mind anymore. Its a mind thats corrupted and dark and bleak, Empty. It feels empty.
I've used this metaphor before, for describing what depression feels like for me but I'm not sure I've written it down. In the first Incredibles, Mr. Incredible breaks into the conference room on the island. Where, he is subsequently shot with these black balls. These black balls expand, and when you touch it, a piece of it gets on you, and then that piece expands as well. So, Mr. Incredible is trying to rip these balls off of him and keeps getting them stuck, while also getting shot with more and more balls. Until they completely expand and close him off in this suffocating cocoon of darkness. For me its like, every time I think I have a handle of my depression I try to metaphorically "take it off" and it makes it all worse, overwhelming and now I'm suffocating. People don't see it though. They just see me no longer struggling against the what feels like inevitable ending of a cocoon again.
Thats just my experience though. Everyone's is different. Some people say that a little demon is on their shoulder, other people describe it as "voices" in a way that your brain is telling you things about you and your surroundings that aren't true, some people say its an overwhelming feeling of sadness and despair, others say its feeling everything all the time 10x stronger than anyone average person, some say its feeling nothing at all. I say, its suffocating, a cocoon, a black, exhausting, suffocating, cocoon.
Which you know is why Sunday's are so hard. I always end up crying on Sundays. Last week it was right before bed ("It always happens at right?"twp) I was recording my journal for the day and I got completely lost in my entry and cried through out the whole recording. Mostly it was me just saying 'it sucks, I suck, my life sucks, I'm always tried, no one understands.' And believe me, if you feel like that sounds petty, then you surely have never experienced true and debilitating depression. I know I have a good ass life, I KNOW I'm fantastic as a person. But right now, it really feels like everything sucks. Like a black hole. Everything that is supposed to be good, I feel almost nothing about it because I am so so deep in this hole that I can't feel happy. Today though? My sister asked me to come over and I cried. I cried because I was afraid to tell her I quit my second job (thats also anxiety.) I cried because I worried that it was a pity invite. I cried because I knew I wouldn't have enough time to explain to her just how bad everything really is for me right now. Things that I think about, things I say in my journal. I become overwhelmed with my own tragic thoughts of talking to my own sister.
Thats why Sundays are the worst days. I don't think about those things everyday. I don't cry everyday. I don't panic and worry about my own family will think about me. Its just Sundays. My suicide days. Those days where you question. Where even though you have so much to live for, you really wonder, is it really enough.
Of course it is right? It doesn't always feel that way. I go to bed every night telling myself for the past month, "tomorrow will be better." And honestly, it doesn't work. Tomorrow is not always better. Sometimes tomorrow worse, sometimes tomorrow is Sunday.
BTW: Twenty Pilots is my favorite band. Tyler Joseph is a brilliant lyricists and I HIGHLY recommend you listen or at least look up their lyrics. I love his metaphors. They always always work for me. Trapdoor is my favorite song. And if you'd like to know how I interpret it maybe I'll tell you. My favorite movie is the Incredibles. I love it. It has more symbolism in it than people think and when i say that they roll their eyes. But just try to watch it again, and tell me if you see anything.
Blog Entries: Regular (so far)
Journal Entries: Irregular at best
Medication: Lexapro 10mg Since November, clearly not working.
Doc Appt: Friday actually. "Thank God its Friday 'cause Fridays will always be better than Sundays 'Cause Sundays are my suicide days"-Twenty One Pilots "
People don't entirely understand though. To be honest, neither do I. Why? Why is it Sunday's. "The Lord's day." The rest day, the peaceful day, the brunch day. They're always a bad day for me. Always. I'm not sure why. For a while I thought it was because I was alone. I live alone, and don't do much on the weekends, so, it would make sense that my loneliness would be completely encompassing on Sundays. But, it even happens when I'm with people I love. When I'm not even home, when I'm on vacation. I can't escape. Its like a timer. I've come to know, that on Sunday's, I'll be at the lowest. But, back to the initial sentence of this paragraph. People. Don't. Get. It. I've told a friend of mine, who also struggles with depression and anxiety, that i can't do things on Sundays. I cant. I won't drive 30 mins to see you, because, I. Can. Not. Do. It. Recently, she's said we've become distant and that she always wants to hang out. I'm not sure how explain to her any other way. SUNDAYS ARE MY SUICIDE DAYS! I need to not be, idk forced, to do something that my body and my brain and my heart, are not in it. I don't think I would even hang out with my sister if my nieces and nephews weren't my literal life force, but even then. I need to be home early so I can distract myself by whatever self medicating means I need.
Today is no different. Its bad. Its really bad today. Its gorgeous outside, and I've closed all my blinds. The darkness makes me feel less like a hermit and a bum who won't clean her apartment. But i need the light right? So I can feel better. Because i do like natural light. But my apartment is dirty, because i can't bring myself to clean it. Like a normal person. Like I used to. So i'm paranoid that people will walk by, and see my dirty place. Its completely random things like that. Things that people don't understand. People assume you' re lazy. Or you just don't want to see them, or do things, or you like being at home. But its not. Its being stuck. You're stuck in your head and what those are telling you and people who have never experienced it, don't get it. You can talk till you're blue in the face and they will still try to fix you. They'll tell you that you need fresh air, that a doctor won't do anything, that you need to sleep that you need to eat, that you need work out. They'll give you a list of mindful practices without realizing that my "mind" isn't in the place to be mindful, because to be very honest, its not even my mind anymore. Its a mind thats corrupted and dark and bleak, Empty. It feels empty.
I've used this metaphor before, for describing what depression feels like for me but I'm not sure I've written it down. In the first Incredibles, Mr. Incredible breaks into the conference room on the island. Where, he is subsequently shot with these black balls. These black balls expand, and when you touch it, a piece of it gets on you, and then that piece expands as well. So, Mr. Incredible is trying to rip these balls off of him and keeps getting them stuck, while also getting shot with more and more balls. Until they completely expand and close him off in this suffocating cocoon of darkness. For me its like, every time I think I have a handle of my depression I try to metaphorically "take it off" and it makes it all worse, overwhelming and now I'm suffocating. People don't see it though. They just see me no longer struggling against the what feels like inevitable ending of a cocoon again.
Thats just my experience though. Everyone's is different. Some people say that a little demon is on their shoulder, other people describe it as "voices" in a way that your brain is telling you things about you and your surroundings that aren't true, some people say its an overwhelming feeling of sadness and despair, others say its feeling everything all the time 10x stronger than anyone average person, some say its feeling nothing at all. I say, its suffocating, a cocoon, a black, exhausting, suffocating, cocoon.
Which you know is why Sunday's are so hard. I always end up crying on Sundays. Last week it was right before bed ("It always happens at right?"twp) I was recording my journal for the day and I got completely lost in my entry and cried through out the whole recording. Mostly it was me just saying 'it sucks, I suck, my life sucks, I'm always tried, no one understands.' And believe me, if you feel like that sounds petty, then you surely have never experienced true and debilitating depression. I know I have a good ass life, I KNOW I'm fantastic as a person. But right now, it really feels like everything sucks. Like a black hole. Everything that is supposed to be good, I feel almost nothing about it because I am so so deep in this hole that I can't feel happy. Today though? My sister asked me to come over and I cried. I cried because I was afraid to tell her I quit my second job (thats also anxiety.) I cried because I worried that it was a pity invite. I cried because I knew I wouldn't have enough time to explain to her just how bad everything really is for me right now. Things that I think about, things I say in my journal. I become overwhelmed with my own tragic thoughts of talking to my own sister.
Thats why Sundays are the worst days. I don't think about those things everyday. I don't cry everyday. I don't panic and worry about my own family will think about me. Its just Sundays. My suicide days. Those days where you question. Where even though you have so much to live for, you really wonder, is it really enough.
Of course it is right? It doesn't always feel that way. I go to bed every night telling myself for the past month, "tomorrow will be better." And honestly, it doesn't work. Tomorrow is not always better. Sometimes tomorrow worse, sometimes tomorrow is Sunday.
BTW: Twenty Pilots is my favorite band. Tyler Joseph is a brilliant lyricists and I HIGHLY recommend you listen or at least look up their lyrics. I love his metaphors. They always always work for me. Trapdoor is my favorite song. And if you'd like to know how I interpret it maybe I'll tell you. My favorite movie is the Incredibles. I love it. It has more symbolism in it than people think and when i say that they roll their eyes. But just try to watch it again, and tell me if you see anything.
Blog Entries: Regular (so far)
Journal Entries: Irregular at best
Medication: Lexapro 10mg Since November, clearly not working.
Doc Appt: Friday actually. "Thank God its Friday 'cause Fridays will always be better than Sundays 'Cause Sundays are my suicide days"-Twenty One Pilots "
Sunday, January 27, 2019
I suppose I'll start again
A lot has happened in the past...geez almost 2 years since I've written on here. Nothing of supreme significance. Just, life I suppose. I would imagine that its rather boring compared to most. Uneventful and even dull, lacking any surprise at all. But, to be honest, its been a lot for me. I'm not quite sure why. I don't have a good reason, or any one event that set everything else in motion. It really was literally just "how the cookie crumbled."
First, let me start out by saying, I am still hooked on, infatuated with, maybe even in love with this person who ended our relationship ALMOST THREE YEARS AGO! Why? No idea. I feel like the girls I used to make fun of, in movies, honestly even in my life. Any friends that would be stuck on a person who made they're feelings for them quite clear (that being that they couldn't care less). I would judge. So hard. Now, now I am that girl. Feelings, so clear, he doesn't care. Buuuuut does he? the question I continually ask myself. Its absurd, and ridiculous I know. It's almost like I can't stop. I just can't disconnect from them enough to connect with someone else. Its sad and consistently reminds how of lonely I am.
Second, this stupid thing I'm hung up on has had this remarkable ability to have me looking for connections with people who only want to physically connect. I've been told idk how many times in just this past year where people have essentially, in not so many words, "you're fuck-able, but not date-able." Now if that doesn't make someone sad, I'm not sure too many things would. Self-esteem, extremely low. Body image? Also extremely low. Why though? Why would my body image also suffer? These men said they'd sleep with me so why don't I at least feel pretty? Because, to put it simply, they want a 'relationship' with me that would only exist in the bedroom(metaphorically). Am I not pretty enough to at least take out to Red Lobster? To show off in public? To claim me as yours in front of other people? Or only just the bedroom when you call me 'baby.' So yeah, self esteem generally low, self image, pretty poor.
Third, SPEAKING OF POOR...I am broke as shit. I have no money. None. I am absolutely atrocious when it comes to managing my money. I don't know why. But its like I can't remind myself often enough that I'm poor. I feel good some days, and I go out, I buy lunch, I buy food to cook, I buy clothes, I buy something. And then I'm suddenly reminded that I need to pay bills. Its dumb, I'm dumb. I know. I've asked my job for a raise because all the other girls in my office get paid more than me and have been there less than me. But, they said no. Because they don't do raises. So I've been looking for other jobs. No one is hiring someone with my degree, my experience, or something. Or, if they are, they just aren't hiring me.
Finally, In the the midst of all this shit I've brought upon myself. I have been diagnosed with depression, and anxiety. I saw the 'discharge' sheet after one of my doctor appointments and it said "major depressive disorder and generalized anxiety disorder." I ruined my day. I called my mom and my best friends and cried about because I felt awful and weird having a seen the 'names' for it written down with my name. I'm still not over it. The med still aren't working, I'm still not sleeping, and honestly, I still don't know what I need to do about it.
Thus, I was reminded that have a blog. A blog, which I used to get a lot of joy from. I enjoy writing. A lot. So I've never quite understood why I couldn't stick with it. I think it was a matter of me being lazy, not having the energy or time, and not really having anything to write about. I'm going to try and start journalling again. Everyday. And also use this. To kind of document more details. Once a week is a goal lol But not a standard so we shall see. I'll write about finding the right pills, finding the best self care techniques for me and hopefully about the night time ritual I figure out so I can sleep like a normal person. ya know, trick my brain into thinking its time to sleep when, its actually time to sleep. (i'm terrified of sleeping pills but if I need them I'll keep you updated.)
Thanks for bearing with me. Thanks for starting again. Its new. Its silly and weird and honest. I'll probably be annoying but hopefully more interesting and relatable than anything else. Adios new friends.
First, let me start out by saying, I am still hooked on, infatuated with, maybe even in love with this person who ended our relationship ALMOST THREE YEARS AGO! Why? No idea. I feel like the girls I used to make fun of, in movies, honestly even in my life. Any friends that would be stuck on a person who made they're feelings for them quite clear (that being that they couldn't care less). I would judge. So hard. Now, now I am that girl. Feelings, so clear, he doesn't care. Buuuuut does he? the question I continually ask myself. Its absurd, and ridiculous I know. It's almost like I can't stop. I just can't disconnect from them enough to connect with someone else. Its sad and consistently reminds how of lonely I am.
Second, this stupid thing I'm hung up on has had this remarkable ability to have me looking for connections with people who only want to physically connect. I've been told idk how many times in just this past year where people have essentially, in not so many words, "you're fuck-able, but not date-able." Now if that doesn't make someone sad, I'm not sure too many things would. Self-esteem, extremely low. Body image? Also extremely low. Why though? Why would my body image also suffer? These men said they'd sleep with me so why don't I at least feel pretty? Because, to put it simply, they want a 'relationship' with me that would only exist in the bedroom(metaphorically). Am I not pretty enough to at least take out to Red Lobster? To show off in public? To claim me as yours in front of other people? Or only just the bedroom when you call me 'baby.' So yeah, self esteem generally low, self image, pretty poor.
Third, SPEAKING OF POOR...I am broke as shit. I have no money. None. I am absolutely atrocious when it comes to managing my money. I don't know why. But its like I can't remind myself often enough that I'm poor. I feel good some days, and I go out, I buy lunch, I buy food to cook, I buy clothes, I buy something. And then I'm suddenly reminded that I need to pay bills. Its dumb, I'm dumb. I know. I've asked my job for a raise because all the other girls in my office get paid more than me and have been there less than me. But, they said no. Because they don't do raises. So I've been looking for other jobs. No one is hiring someone with my degree, my experience, or something. Or, if they are, they just aren't hiring me.
Finally, In the the midst of all this shit I've brought upon myself. I have been diagnosed with depression, and anxiety. I saw the 'discharge' sheet after one of my doctor appointments and it said "major depressive disorder and generalized anxiety disorder." I ruined my day. I called my mom and my best friends and cried about because I felt awful and weird having a seen the 'names' for it written down with my name. I'm still not over it. The med still aren't working, I'm still not sleeping, and honestly, I still don't know what I need to do about it.
Thus, I was reminded that have a blog. A blog, which I used to get a lot of joy from. I enjoy writing. A lot. So I've never quite understood why I couldn't stick with it. I think it was a matter of me being lazy, not having the energy or time, and not really having anything to write about. I'm going to try and start journalling again. Everyday. And also use this. To kind of document more details. Once a week is a goal lol But not a standard so we shall see. I'll write about finding the right pills, finding the best self care techniques for me and hopefully about the night time ritual I figure out so I can sleep like a normal person. ya know, trick my brain into thinking its time to sleep when, its actually time to sleep. (i'm terrified of sleeping pills but if I need them I'll keep you updated.)
Thanks for bearing with me. Thanks for starting again. Its new. Its silly and weird and honest. I'll probably be annoying but hopefully more interesting and relatable than anything else. Adios new friends.
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